I can’t tell you the last time I sat at my kitchen table, looked down at my lunchbox and thought: “Ughhh, I wish my breasts were still sexy.” In fact, I’m pretty sure that I’ve never bemoaned the plumpness of the fillets in front of me. Nor have any others I’ve seen in the work canteen or at restaurants. That’s because chicken breasts (ha, gotcha) are food and, unlike my own, they are not supposed to be sexy.

Somebody should tell that to SousFeed, a new company I came across on my Instagram feed this week which sells ready-to-eat vacuum-packed chicken breasts and is on a mission to make them “sexy again”. God help us. SousFeed’s fillets, which can be ordered online and cost up to £7 a breast, come in flavours such as Mediterranean herbs and tomato bomb, contain 30g of protein and are sold in colourful cardboard boxes that look like mini cereal packets.

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It is the latest brand to feed Britain’s obsession with consuming more protein. Let’s call it protein propaganda. According to the brand Myprotein, the digital Valhalla for gym bros which sells protein powder and snacks, Brits spend approximately £15 a month on protein supplements. All this goes to explain why those attending the Barry’s cult exercise classes are willing to spend £10 on a new “Michelin star” protein shake. This month Barry’s partnered with the chef Miller Prada, who helped Humo restaurant in Mayfair secure its first star, to create a drink made with whey powder and topped, naturally, with saffron foam. Even my local Sainsbury’s has almost half an aisle dedicated to powders, conveniently around the corner from another section that sells protein cereals.

Nothing, however, marks our arrival at peak protein better than the opening of a café in the City of London called Protein, Mate. If anything proves that we’ve entered the hold-my-beer-ification of eating protein, it’s the menu here. Fancy lunch? Try the £10.50 Tuna Mate Melt tray (a tuna and veg frittata sort of thing with 30g protein). Want something sweet? How about a £5.50 wedge of Cinnamon Protein Cheesecake made of tonka beans and containing 17g protein? I can only imagine that with a name like that, it’s aimed at gym bros who have been radicalised by protein and don’t have time in between CrossFit and matcha lattes to figure out that not only would it be cheaper to cook their own food, it may also taste nicer. Having popped in this week for a taste, I can confirm both are true.

• How much protein do I need a day? Probably less than you think

I used to be SousFeed’s ideal customer. I love the gym, weights, exercise, and in my twenties — I am 31 — I enthusiastically ate anything with the “added protein” label as if these were the last days of Rome. Earnestly I listened to the advice parroted by influencers and online “diet gurus” who insisted that if I wanted to become stronger, I needed to eat 2g protein per kilo of body weight. For me that means 125g a day.

It didn’t matter whether it was ultra-processed or had that distinctive protein aroma — anything to make me stronger. This included, but was not limited to, protein cookies, protein pizzas, protein pancakes, protein powder (which I added to my protein porridge), protein balls and protein bars. When Warburtons released its Protein Thin Bagels (8.1g protein), straight into my basket they went, along with a packet of Protein Weetabix (7.6g per two biscuits). Regularly I justified spending north of £5 on a tiny pot of peppered calamari from Marks & Spencer; “20g protein,” I’d say with a shrug.

Thankfully for my gut (these brands always fail to mention the, ahem, awkward side-effects of eating too much protein) and my career (as deputy food editor I’m sure I’d be marched to HR if I brought in a dish from my old diet), I have toned down my consumption.

• Dairy council cheesed off by anti-milk influencers

I’ve also woken up to the fact that much of the protein mania is just a big, muscley scam. That £2.25 tub of Arla protein yogurt everyone at CrossFit eats? Well, it’s got almost the same amount of protein in per 100g as Fage 5 per cent fat Greek yogurt, which, by the way, is two thirds of the price. That £2.75 protein drink from Starbucks? Less protein than a glass of semi-skimmed milk.

So I would like to use this opportunity to remind you that we need only 0.75g of protein per kilo of body weight each day. And according to the National Diet and Nutrition Survey, even in 2018 British people were on average eating 45-55 per cent more protein than required. Think of what that must be like now. And unless you are a woman over 40 (older women need to eat more protein to help to combat muscle loss as they age) or training for an Ironman, there is no need to worry about upping your intake, be that through designer shakes or vacuum-packed chicken breasts. No matter how sexy they are, mate.